


Wedding Night

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Awkward First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, M/M, Spanking, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 15:30:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18759250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: He’d let down all of them—both his new husband and his family. And the festivities had only begun… How was he ever to please a man like Leon once it was time to retire?





	Wedding Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yen/gifts).



He had barely made it through the ceremony without apologizing. For the past few months, his family had repeatedly driven the message home that this alliance with the wealthy and influential Marquis Leon de Montagnon was a stroke of luck that would save their family from ruin. It was almost unheard of for a man like the Marquis to marry someone like Gérard—of peasant stock, his father a laborer who drunk away what little money he made, leaving his sisters without a dowry. Gérard had made his living as a blacksmith’s apprentice, and finally was able to set up a small smithy of his own, mostly shoeing horses.

It was a life that suited him. He preferred the company of horses anyway. He had never known what to say when one of the girls of the town was introduced to him at one of the village dances his mother had forced him to attend. In any case, marriage was impossible until he’d paid off what he’d borrowed to open his tiny shop. He’d never felt the need for it anyway.

Until the day the Marquis de Montagnon, a famous general of the king’s army, had stopped in front of Gérard’s shop, seated on his dappled, silver barb, and had imperiously demanded to be served, for the horse had just lost one of its shoes.

Gérard had known that something was wrong as soon as their hands had touched accidentally when the Marquis had handed him the reins.

Leon had inhaled sharply, and for the remainder of the time it took Gérard to shoe his horse, he had kept watching him with such intensity that Gérard grew flustered, even though this was work he did every day.

He had imagined that the Marquis feared he would steal his horse, although that would have meant Gérard’s death, and Gérard was no fool. Instead, as he found out a day later, after he’d woken in a hot flush, damp with sweat and so aroused that everything between his legs had been aching, from his prick to his swollen balls to his hole, Leon had recognized something in him that had slumbered dormant for many years.

Leon was an alpha, as befitted someone of such a noble lineage. He had not yet married, because even among the nobility, who had bred for it for centuries, omegas were rare—and it would not do for the Marquis to marry some lesser creature, not when all the alpha’s instincts yearned for the true mate he was bred for.

Omegas among peasant stock were mostly unheard of. Oh, there were stories, it was true—but in those stories, it always came to a bad end. But it seemed, as his mother told him in a low whisper, that there was a scandalous secret in her line: an omega great-great-grandfather, who had gone mad. No one knew what had become of him.

And it seemed that however thin the blood was by now, it had slumbered inside Gérard, only to wake the very first time an alpha touched him.

All of a sudden, Gérard became aware of the silence that filled the church.

Heat rushed to his cheeks when he realized that the Bishop had been clearing his throat in an attempt to rouse him from his daydreams. Behind him, in the pews of the church that were filled with nobles and the notaries of the city, he heard titters and amused murmurs. His own family was seated there, among the noblest names of the country, no doubt as ill at ease as he was, even though his new husband had been generous enough to gift them with one of the finest mansions that lined the marketplace, as well as a fitting wardrobe of silks and velvets befitting the monumental occasion to which they had been invited.

He’d worried that one of his sisters might offend a noble by flirting in the ways that came naturally to a barmaid, or that his father would appear already drunk and disturb the ceremony with his snores.

Flushed with humiliation, he dared at last to turn his head to look his future husband in the eye—and found Leon’s eyes flashing at him, that noble, handsome face thunderous.

“I swear,” the Bishop supplied kindly, and Gérard struggled to drawn in a deep breath.

His vows. He’d forgotten his vows. He’d spent countless hours repeating them before a mirror, again and again, terrified to stand in front of so many people, until he’d found himself reciting them even in his dreams… and now this.

He swallowed thickly, hesitantly raising his eyes to Leon again as if he could somehow read the answer in his impatient eyes.

“I swear,” Leon said quietly, every word pronounced with a cutting clarity that rang in his ears, “to honor and obey, to serve, to bring no shame to my noble name,” a small smile there that was all the harder to bear, “to—”

Gérard nodded hastily when the words came rushing back in.

“Thank you, my lord,” he whispered, his hands, used to swinging the hammer and bending brittle iron to his will, sweating now as he rubbed them against his thighs.

“I swear to honor and obey,” he began, and the remnants of the vow followed this time, flowing from his mouth like sounds without meaning while shame continued to heat his cheeks.

The alliance was precarious as it was. As a rare omega, he was eminently more marriageable than all the nobles’ offspring gathered here—but that didn’t mean that these same nobles liked it to lose out on Leon’s money and connections. Likewise his family, who’d eagerly jumped into the new life afforded to them, wouldn’t let him live this down.

He’d let down all of them—both his new husband and his family. And the festivities had only begun… How was he ever to please a man like Leon once it was time to retire?

~~~

There was no time to escape, no time even to think. Leon’s hand curved around the back of his neck, and a heartbeat later Gérard found himself pulled over the general’s knees, his nightshirt pulled up, his face buried in the silken sheets that covered the bed.

Gérard cried out, as much in shock as in pain, when Leon’s hand came down for the first time. He hadn’t been chastised so since he was a child.

He’d dreaded his wedding night, it was true—but mostly for different reasons. His inexperience, for once thing. His lack of manners, for he was a simple blacksmith, and his new husband was the Marquis Leon de Montagnon, whose chateau overlooked the small town Gérard had grown up in. He was certain that he’d never be able to satisfy a man like the general, whose prowess in battle, it was said, was only surpassed by his prowess in the bedchamber.

Again Leon’s hand came down, Gérard’s skin burning as he gasped.

“Stop squirming,” the general said impatiently. “I have very few rules, but I will not be made a fool of.”

Gérard whined when Leon’s hand struck him again, this time hitting the tender crease where his buttocks met the thigh.

“In front of my own men. At my own wedding feast.”

Every sentenced was underlined by another hard smack. Gérard’s skin was burning, his eyes filling with tears. He knew he’d let Leon down—but he hadn’t meant to.

“Even if you don’t care about my honor—think of your own reputation. You will be a member of court now, whether you like it or not.”

“I’m sorry,” Gérard sobbed at the reminder. “I care about your honor, my lord.”

“Do you?”

Leon’s hand came down again, hard enough that Gérard thought that he must leave bruises. He’d been too old for such discipline for a long time now, although it was true that when he’d been first apprenticed, Master Toben’s hand had been just as firm and merciless.

“I didn’t mean to. Truly, my lord. I know I’m not meant for this sort of life. The thought of all of them watching… I was terrified I’d embarrass you.”

“And you did,” Leon said sternly, although mercifully his hand had ceased its assault now.

It remained where it was, the skin beneath it burning, and Gérard caught himself making another soft, embarrassing sound when Leon’s hand began very slowly to draw circles on the aching skin.

“Well,” Leon then murmured. “It can be excused once. Many omegas don’t like crowds. I just didn’t think you one of those frail court creatures who faint at the sight of a general’s scars and have to be revived with smelling salts.”

He ran his hand up over Gérard’s strong shoulders and squeezed his biceps to make a point, which were as hard as that of any soldier after years of swinging the hammer.

“It’s just me and the horses, my lord,” Gérard sniffled, feeling embarrassingly like the ten year old apprentice pulled across Master Toben’s lap once more. “And the occasional chat with a farmer or soldier who comes to have his horse shod or a plow fixed.”

“I see,” Leon said thoughtfully. “It’s true, I’ve known many a brave, heroic sergeant who, after a promotion, turned out utterly incapable of leading men. There’s a difference between bravely staring the foe in the face, and standing before a company of men who look up to you for leadership.”

Gérard shuddered instinctively at the thought. It had been bad enough to stand before all the nobles in the church—but to command a troop of men?

All of a sudden, he found himself yearning for the solitude of his quiet smithy, where only the familiar sounds of the roaring fire and the hammer rang out, and no one was observing his every move to judge it.

Leon made another contemplative sound. “It seems to me that we will need to get to know each other better, husband. For one thing, you do know that you are my husband now?”

Gérard nodded hurriedly, pleased that he could at least answer this question. “Of course, my lord.”

Leon threw back his head and laughed. “And why then _my lord_?” he teased. “Come, say Leon.”

“Sorry, my—sorry, Leon.”

Gérard felt breathless, flustered. Even speaking Leon’s name suddenly felt too intimate 

“Better,” Leon said gently. His hand resumed its gently circular motion on Gérard’s aching buttocks.

Even though his skin was sore, Gérard had to admit that it was rather nice—although now that he no longer had the punishment to distract him, he became increasingly aware of just how embarrassing it was to lie over Leon’s knees. And of how intimate the position was...

“Does it hurt?” Leon asked gently.

“I’ll live,” Gérard answered, then had to bite back a soft gasp when Leon’s hand slipped lower, curving around the inside of his thigh.

Despite the way his buttocks ached even now, the touch awoke a different heat, burning somewhere inside his stomach where something seemed to tighten at the way Leon’s fingertips trailed over his skin.

He’d never felt anything like it before. Even when Leon’s hand returned to slowly caress the skin he had reddened himself, Gérard felt the tiny pinpricks of heat spread within him, like bubbles bursting beneath his skin.

“Here, this will help.” Leon turned away from him, and a moment later, there was a touch of something cold that made him gasp.

A heartbeat later, Gérard sighed when Leon began to gently rub a lotion into his skin that cooled the ache. Leon’s fingers were careful, and something inside Gérard filled with surprised warmth at the thought that hands used to holding a sword could be so tender.

“Now,” Leon murmured, “I understand that you’ve never had a heat yet?”

Embarrassed, Gérard shook his head.

Leon made a thoughtful sound. “The doctors say that if we spend time with each other, it should trigger one within the first month.” His fingers skimmed close to the inside of Gérard’s high again, who realized with sudden embarrassment that he was achingly hard despite the spanking.

“If you would rather wait until you’re in heat—I know it will be your first time, and that will ease it—”

Blushing profusely, Gérard sat up. From the heat that had shot to his face, he had to be bright red—at least as red as his aching backside.

That thought didn’t make his embarrassment any better. Still, the thought of disappointing his noble husband during their wedding night was even worse.

“I don’t want to wait,” he said, “I want you to, I want to—” He swallowed, then, with difficulty, forced himself to meet Leon’s eyes and continue. “I want to be yours. I want to please you. I just... I don’t know how. You will be disappointed...”

“I have to admit, you weren’t quite what I thought you’d be,” Leon said quietly, and Gérard felt his heart fall.

Then Leon tilted his head at him, a reluctant smile on his lips as he ran a hand over Gérard’s broad shoulders. “Not a courtly omega in silks at all.” His smile widened. “You have the look of a lad I wouldn’t mind warming my bedroll on the battlefield.”

“Is that... good?” Gérard asked hesitantly, embarrassedly aware of his rough hands. The only thing he had going for him, or so his sisters had claimed, were the shoulder-length, curly locks of gold that any court omega would die for. Only Gérard was used to them being dark with sweat and the dirt of the smithy, tied back behind his head.

Now, they framed his face, soft and perfumed for his special day. Leon reached out to gently brush a lock back behind his ear.

“Very good,” Leon murmured. “To speak the truth, I prefer the battlefield to court. But since we won the war against Spain, we might see peace until the end of our lives. I thought I’d end up with a fragile court creature who’d be repulsed by my rough hands and my soldierly manners. Do you—”

Gérard reached out for Leon’s hand and hastily pressed it to his cheek. It was true—Leon’s hand was rough, welts from holding sword and reins brushing against his skin.

“I wouldn’t want you any other way,” he said softly, and then, daringly, turned his head a little, so that he could press a kiss to Leon’s hand.

“Good,” Leon said roughly. “Because I think I’d die if I can’t have you this instant.”

Gérard gasped when he found himself pressed back down onto the bed.

“Don’t worry,” Leon reassured him gently, “you won’t disappoint me. I’ll teach you how to please me. And I’ve never been with an omega—maybe I’ll turn out disappointing you...”

“Never,” Gérard gasped, some ancient instinct awakening within him when he felt the unmistakable hardness of Leon’s arousal press against his thigh.

“It’ll be a lot to take,” Leon warned him, his voice gone dark and hungry. Hearing it sent another pang of aching need through Gérard—who suddenly, for the first time in his life, felt an embarrassing wetness between his legs.

“Don’t worry,” Leon said. “I’ll go slowly.”

Their wedding clothes were the traditional garb of alpha and omega, diaphanous silks and soft velvet designed to be quickly moved out of the way. And when Leon did just that, baring Gérard’s own arousal to his view, Gérard felt another jolt of pleasure at seeing Leon’s eyes go wide and dark.

“Well. This’ll make it easier,” Leon murmured, the hint of a possessive growl in his voice as he ran his fingertips up Gérard’s thigh. When he lifted them, a sticky wetness clung to them.

Gérard felt himself flushing again. “I’ve never—”

“It’ll be much more when heat strikes,” Leon said. “It’ll have to be, or you’ll end up quite sore, because I can already tell you that once you’re in heat, I’ll keep you knotted day and night.”

Gérard heard himself produce an embarrassing, high whine, his thighs falling apart.

A moment later, Leon was between his legs. He hastily pushed his own long, silken tunic out of the way. It was embroidered all over with the blue roses of his coat of arms, and Gérard felt a moment of worry for the precious garment.

Then he felt Leon’s cock against his thigh, huge and hard, and he lost the ability to think.

“Like this?” Leon demanded hungrily. “Or on your hands and knees?”

“Like this,” Gérard gasped, reaching out to wrap his arms around Leon’s shoulders and draw him closer. “Please!”

Leon chuckled and only paused long enough to push a cushion beneath Gérard’s hips. Then Gérard felt his finger tease at his hole.

“It’ll be a stretch,” Leon warned him darkly. “But you can take it. God, you’re so wet...”

Gérard whimpered in embarrassment when at Leon’s words, another burst of arousal made more of the slickness drip down his thighs.

He didn’t care about how large Leon was. He didn’t care about how the knot would feel. All he knew was that he’d die if he didn’t get to feel him right this instant.

And then, at long last, Leon moved over him, and the tip of his cock found his hole.

Gérard heard himself cry out when Leon pushed into him. The sensation was incredible, like nothing he’d ever felt. The stretch felt immense—but even so, he felt so slick that no matter how his virginal muscle clenched reflexively around Leon’s cock, Leon was able to sink deeper into him.

“That’s it,” Leon gasped hoarsely. “Halfway there...”

Gérard sobbed, wrapping his thighs around Leon’s hips. He didn’t care about the burn of the stretch—all he knew was that he needed more.

Leon began thrusting, slow at first, and then faster. Having Leon inside him had felt good before—but now, with every thrust, pleasure exploded somewhere inside Gérard, his entire body tensing as he felt himself climbing towards something.

He dug into Leon’s skin with his nails, moaning incessantly, his back arching to draw him in deeper, to feel more...

And then he could feel it. Leon’s knot brushed against the outside of his hole, feeling impossibly huge. And while Gérard still gasped for breath, Leon thrust into him again—and Gérard’s slick hole spread around him, drawing him deeper inside, the pressure of him within so good that Gérard cried out again, helplessly feeling hot pulses of his release splash against his stomach.

“God,” Leon gasped. “You’ve taken it all. You’re incredible... You’re mine, all mine now.”

Gérard felt another climax building as the knot within him grew, locking Leon in place. He’d always thought the talk of it sounded terrifying—but now that he could feel Leon, hot and hard and huge, filling his body to such a degree that the smallest motion sent pleasure racing up his spine like lightning, he didn’t ever want Leon to leave.

Leon groaned his name, every muscle in his body tensing when he came at last—and the sensation of it was enough to send Gérard over the edge as well.

Panting for breath, utterly exhausted, he found himself resting on his side in Leon’s arms several minutes later—Leon’s knot still hard and large, locking him inside him.

The feeling was incredible. He’d never felt so open, so exposed—and so wanted before.

Leon’s hand began to trail through his hair again, and a moment later, Gérard felt himself pulled forward, and their lips met. Leon’s arms slid around his shoulders to pull him even closer, and despite the way his buttocks ached a little even now, Gérard felt himself relaxing, sighing into the kiss.

Maybe he wouldn’t turn out to be as terrible at this as he’d feared. Maybe Leon had said the truth, and he’d actually bring his highborn husband true happiness.

And maybe—just maybe—there was true happiness for him in store as well. Once he’d learned how not to embarrass Leon in front of the nobles. He’d just have to trust that Leon would guide him. And if it took further chastisements at his hands, Gérard already knew that he would gladly submit to that as well.


End file.
